"Heya, Race," Jack smiled as he wandered into the living room.

"Hey, Jack," Racetrack grinned. "Wow, dis is some place, ain't it?" he asked, looking around him.

Jack nodded, sitting down across from his friend. "Yeah, it is."

Race looked at his friend and began chuckling. "Whea'd ya get dose pajamas?"

Jack looked down at his current attire and smiled. "Dese? Aw, well, dey's Johnny's. He lent �em ta me." Jack then turned away, coughing.

"Ya feelin' okay, Jack?"

Jack sighed and leaned back in the chair. "I've sure felt a helluva lot better," Jack remarked dryly.

"Dat good, eh?" Race joked. "When d'ya think you'll be gettin' out �a hea'?"

Jack shrugged. "I dunno. Wheneva' da docta' says I can, I guess. It ain't so bad."

Racetrack's eyes widened. "Whaddya mean, �it ain't so bad?' Dis is betta dan da Waldorf downtown!"

Jack smiled wryly. "Yeah, and da food's betta too."

"Seriously though," Race leaned forward and cracked his knuckles, "doncha feel kinda weird bein' in such a fancy place?"

Jack shook his head through another bout of coughing. "At first I was so sick, I couldn't tell right from left. An' now...well, I s'pose maybe I feel a little funny but..." Jack trailed off and threw his hands up in the air. "Why should I? Everybody hea' has tried ta make me feel welcome. They's not gonna throw me back out on da street or somethin'. I mean, I'm sick."

"Well, yeah..."

Jack shrugged. "Ya know, I don't think hardly anyone in dis house really cares whea' anyone else is from. Dey really don't. They's all off just doin' their own thing, ya know? Angie's dad is da only one in da family wid da real money anyway. An'...aww, I dunno. I'm too sick, and I'm too tired ta think about it." The pair sat in silence for a moment, the lilting notes from the gramophone the only sound in the room.

"So, how's Angela?" Race asked, changing the subject.

Jack sighed. "Race...I dunno anymore. When I left Boston, she was mad at me �cause I put me foot in me mouth. And now...I've been too sick ta really talk ta her much...except...well, neva' mind. I jus' wish dat everything could go back ta normal. Dat's all I really want. Things have been a mess since she left."

"Whatcha gonna do �bout it, Cowboy?" Race asked, sounding irritated, though he was trying to mask it. "Look, Jack, ya can't just sit hea' and talk �bout how ya want things normal again. Jack, you've wasted weeks-no, months now. Eva' since she left..." Race sighed and shook his head. "Ya gotta make a decision because ya can't just waste away like dis."

Jack shook his head and chuckled a little. "Ya know, dat's what Dave said ta me a few weeks back."

"Well, maybe Dave was right." Racetrack sighed in frustration. "Jack, ya eitha' get ova' her or ya fix things between da two �a ya."

"Yeah, but...but what if I jus' make it worse? I jus' don't wanna hurt her, ya know?"

"You are! Right now, Jack, right now! Ya hurtin' Angela, ya hurtin' me, and ya hurtin' yaself. Ya gotta make a decision."

Jack sighed and studied his hands. "Yeah, but how?" he whispered.

Race ran a hand over his hair, a pained expression on his face. "Do ya love her?"

"God, Race, whatta ya think I've been asking myself fer da past four months?! How da hell should I know?!?" Jack snapped.

"Well, ya betta figure it out pretty damn quick, Jack! If you love her, ya gotta tell her, and if ya don't, ya betta' stop this thing before it goes any furtha'." Race sighed and looked at his friend who was shamefully staring at the floor. "Jack, how long've we known each otha'?"

Jack raised his head to meet Race's tired eyes. "'Bout six years."

Race nodded. "Six years...six years, Cowboy. So I think dat afta' all dose years, I know ya pretty well, eh?"

"Yeah, Race, ya do."